Breathless
by dreaming-of-tonight
Summary: "Her lips were like heroin and he was most definitely an addict." Mindless Tiva smut.


**Mindless Tiva smut just because. **

**disclaimer: disclaimed**

* * *

Work had been unreasonably long and they were unreasonably tired from working unreasonable hours from an unreasonable boss. And, because of the physically draining nature of this particular case and the sleep it seemed to steal away from them, hitting the pillows had been the only thing on Tony and Ziva's mind when they would return home in the evening.

And that just plain sucked.

So on Friday, when the case finally closed in gun-slinging fashion and they wearily stumbled into Tony's apartment, Tony decided that Ziva's shirt had been on much too long and he _needed_ to touch that warm, bronze skin.

And when Ziva whirled around in the entryway and his shirt appeared in her fists, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

His warm lips dragged down her neck, and a sigh tumbled from her lips at the contact, as she pulled him closer, _closer…_

Wasting no time, her nimble fingers all but ripped his shirt down the middle and cast it aside, soon joined by his shoes that he toed off in the living room.

Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, and God, he knew he'd never get tired of the sounds she made when he kissed her like this, all hot and heavy, raking his hands through her thick, dark hair. Her lips were like heroin and he was most definitely an addict.

He lost his pants somewhere in the hallway and barely registered the _clink_ of his belt colliding with the wood floor because she chose that moment to grind her hips into him. Instead of walking her backwards the last six feet to the bedroom, Tony pushed her against the wall, because she needed to _feel_ what she was doing to him _right now._

"Ziva…" he moaned when her cargos pooled at her ankles and he saw the scrap of white lace adorning her hips that was indecent as all hell and he was mad. He was mad that she had been by him all day wearing those and he didn't know about it.

She smirked at his expression, and how she could remain so incredibly coy in a moment like this, he had no idea, but the arch of her eyebrow and the curve of her lips had him planting his mouth back onto her neck in the spot he knew drove her crazy, and his hands moved teasingly down her sides and tantalizingly brushed over her covered center, which did nothing but make her grow hotter under his touch.

"Anthony," she breathed, her nails digging into his shoulders. His fingers skimmed the outline of her panties and she jerked in his arms. "Take me to bed."

Wordlessly, he hitched her leg up near his waist, a simultaneous gasp filled the hallway at the friction and he hoisted her the rest of the way up.

She was hot and her chest was heaving as he kissed her desperately, his lips swollen against her jawline, her collarbone, her own lips, and with every touch and with every thrust of his hips, her head fell against the wall a little more, and her lips parted a little more. And while this was completely wonderful and blissful in every single way, she didn't know how much more over-the-clothes business she could possibly take.

"Tony!" she gasped. "Bed!"

She felt his teeth nip her neck and she just knew that she'd see evidence in the morning, but it didn't matter because now his hands cupped her ass and he was carrying her to the bedroom, his lips never leaving her.

The carpet was soft under her bare feet, and it was only when Tony's hands seized the back of her shirt that she realized she was still wearing it. Gun-calloused hands brushed against her flushed skin and he pulled the shirt over her head quickly as she arched into him, and with a quick flick of his wrist, her bra was gone.

From there, it was nothing but sheets and his hand twisting the waistband of her underwear between his fingers as his body pressed her into the mattress so he could kiss every inch of her he could reach. When Tony DiNozzo is deprived of his woman for nearly a week, he is sure to collect…

Calvin Klein and Victoria's Secret met in a tangled mess by their feet and then it was her and him and he was _so damned hard _and though he wanted to continue the exploration of her body with his mouth and hands, he needed her_ now,_ especially if her fingers continued to slither between their bodies and just barely brush his cock…

_Oh fuck._

The look she gave him was threatening enough, blatantly screaming at him to get in her or she'd leave and find someone else who would.

He pushed into her without further question, and didn't waste any time; she was reeling under him and scratching at his back, and when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, his name was all he heard on her lips.

When he kissed her again, their breathing erratic but synchronized as their bodies move furiously in familiar time, Ziva's eyes squeezed shut, and he knew it was building. He had her tells down to a science.

It wasn't long and he was embarrassingly close but that's just what she did to him when she clung to him like this, tight around him, head thrown back in abandon, and he snapped his hips harder against her because she _had_ to get there when he did.

She bit his lip when his thumb brushed her clit, and he felt her come apart around him, watched her shake with release, and he spilled inside her with a grunt.

"Oh, Ziva…" he moaned, and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. "God I missed you this week…"

Her body, still numb and limp under him was still, but her hand dragged itself through his hair, and when she could finally see him clearly, she replied with a somewhat breathless smile that he could feel against his stubbly cheek.

"I feel like it was worth the wait."


End file.
